


What You Should Know

by sonofabiscuit77



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Closeted, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Loneliness, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Marine Corps, Military, Military Kink, Military Uniforms, Prisoner of War, Self-Esteem Issues, Shy Jared Padalecki, Shyness, Small Towns, Tattoos, mechanic Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofabiscuit77/pseuds/sonofabiscuit77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a mechanic in a small Texan town with a big secret. Jensen, a Staff Sergeant in the Marine Corps, is that secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsonepitaph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonepitaph/gifts).



> This is a gift for [](http://crimsonepitaph.livejournal.com/profile)[crimsonepitaph](http://crimsonepitaph.livejournal.com/) for [](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/profile)[spn_j2_xmas](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/). You gave me so many great likes that I was spoiled for choice. Military!J2 or J2 in uniform did leap out to me for certain _reasons_ , so here we have Marine!Jensen, lots of tattoos, established relationship, quiet moments, a shy and awkward mechanic!Jared, and lots of angst. I hope you enjoy it :D
> 
>  **Author's note 2:** This is where I beg forgiveness of anyone who actually knows anything about the US Marine Corps. I learned everything I did from TV, films and lurking on various Marine forums. If I have made glaring errors or inadvertently offended anyone with my ignorance then I apologise.

On Wednesday, Mr. Peterson came by the garage. He took a quick glance at the ledger, complimented Jared on the way he was keeping the place, and then he left, with a solemn shake of Jared’s hand. Jared barely looked up from Dave Phelan's 1997 Oldsmobile Cutlass the entire time. Mr. Peterson didn't like him to stop working while he was doing his inspection. After he left, gunning away in his cherry red 1972 Mustang, Jared breathed a long sigh of relief and made himself a cup of coffee as a reward.

Every day Jared opened the garage, he half expected it to be the day when Mr Peterson would come by to tell him he was finally closing. On a good week, Jared had five or six jobs. On a slow week, he was lucky to work on two cars. One time back in the summer, he didn't see a customer for four days. On the fourth day, with his crossword and logic puzzle book complete, the shop’s single fan only shifting the hot air from one side of the room to the other, he sat at his small rickety desk drinking coffee and sweating, and considered whether he should bother showing up the next day. But the next morning, he still woke at 6am, ate breakfast in his apartment, and went to work.

Jared occasionally thought about getting another job. Mechanic was a good trade, _an honest trade_ , his father used to say. _An honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay_ was his motto. Jared had never been academically inclined, he'd always done okay at school, being a conscientious and responsible student, but even when he did work hard, he never seemed to get anything better than average grades. Things changed when his father’s friend Bill Atkins offered him a part-time job after school helping out at Peterson’s Auto Repair. Jared soon discovered that he loved engines. They were big, tangible versions of the logic puzzles he liked so much. There was always an answer with an engine. When they were broken, they needed to be fixed, and Jared loved how at home he felt with that one simple truth.

It seemed like the logical next step was to make the job with Bill permanent once Jared graduated high school. Bill was already planning his retirement, and Jared soon became part of his plan. After a year or so of teaching him everything he knew, Bill retired for good, and Jared was left on his own. It was a lot of responsibility for a nineteen year old boy, but Jared’s dad had always said he was wise beyond his years.

He missed having Bill around, he wasn’t the best company, but he was someone to talk to at least, someone other than the radio or his collection of vintage albums. But as the years passed, Jared learned to make do on his own. He’d always been a self-sufficient child, and with older parents who were always busy and no brothers or sisters, Jared had spent most of his childhood on his own.

Loampit Vale was a small town, only 800 residents give or take, and over the years he’d been working at the garage, Jared had gotten a reputation as the “fix-it” guy. Loampit’s cash-strapped residents knew the value of a buck, and so he soon got used to his neighbors and their neighbors bringing their broken appliances to him to take a look at before they gave up on them for good. Jared never charged for doing that work, being only too happy to have something interesting to occupy his time when it was really slow, but he always got something for his trouble – a plate of cinnamon rolls or a pan of brownies, a bottle of home-brew or a fruit basket.

Jared finished Dave Phelan's Oldsmobile by 3pm, and spent the rest of the time until he closed up working on the twin 1930's CB radios he'd picked up in a junkshop in Riverview a couple of weeks ago. Dave came by just after five to collect his car, straight from work at the factory and still wearing the familiar blue Ferguson’s Aerosols coveralls. Dave stayed for a few minutes, chatting as Jared finished his paperwork. Dave was two years older than Jared, and Jared could remember him from the daily school bus rides to Riverview High. Like a lot of kids Jared grew up with, Dave joined Ferguson's Aerosols straight out of school, and was already married with one kid and one on the way. Jared could remember his girlfriend – now wife – Julie Evans. All the boys in his class had had crushes on Julie Evans.

"So what about you?" Dave teased. "Everyone says you got a secret girl down in the city."

Jared blushed and tried to laugh it off, saying that he was looking, but he was probably too picky, that some guys already had the pick of the bunch. Dave looked pleased and tipped him an extra couple of bucks as he left.

Jared locked up the garage after Dave had gone, replaying the conversation in his mind and cringing at his own awkward answers to Dave's questions. Although he’d grown up in a small town all, he’d never been comfortable with the way everyone was always up in everybody else’s business. Sometimes he thought that it would nice to be anonymous, to not have everyone know his parents or what his nickname had been in school. Sometimes he even went so far as to look over the employment ads in the city paper, but he never plucked up the courage to actually apply for any of the vacancies. He earned enough to have his own place and to put a little by every week, and with his dad only gone two years, he couldn’t abandon his mom completely. Not yet at least. Perhaps if Mr. Peterson ever closed the shop, then he’d be forced to do something. But for now it was easier to stay where he was.

It was chicken pot pie Wednesday at the diner, so he stopped there to eat dinner, sitting at the counter and reading the _Riverview and Five Acres Gazette_. Greta was on shift, and she came over to talk after Jared finished eating. Jared liked Greta, she was a friend of his mom’s, and she’d known him his entire life. Unlike most people round town, she knew better than to quiz him about his personal life. She was a movie buff and she talked in great detail about the new George Clooney movie she'd seen at the cinema in Riverview two nights ago, and whether it was real Oscar contender material. He left his usual tip for her, taking home a couple of his favorite lemon squares for breakfast. He nodded goodbye to the diner's only other patron, Willy Preston, whose wife died three years ago, and who ate at the diner every night.

He showered, and changed, and climbed into bed with his laptop. His heart was racing as his computer slowly booted up. He had a good feeling about today, he could feel it deep down in his gut. He'd had it ever since he woke up that morning. After five long weeks of silence, today would be the day he’d hear from Jensen.

He had to type his password twice; his hands were shaking so violently. The second time he forced himself to take his time, pressing each key slowly and deliberately so as not to mistype. If he ended up locked out of his account, he didn't know what he would do. Go crazy probably, as he wasn't sure how he was supposed to unlock it.

His inbox seemed to take forever to load, and when it did, Jared had to press the refresh key twice, his chest heavy and sick with dread and disbelief.

There was no message from Jensen.

 

**

_Five years ago..._

The first time Jared saw Jensen Ackles he thought he was a mirage. It was a quiet day in the shop. No jobs and only Mrs. Hatfield due tomorrow for the regular service of her old Ford Escort. The fan turned slowly in the corner, and Jared was listening to Bruce Springsteen's _Born to Run_ on the turntable he'd salvaged and repaired a few months earlier. His new favorite book, _Challenging Math and Logic Puzzles_ was open in front of him, and he was sucking on the end of his pencil as he read through the problem again.

_I ask people at random if they have two children and also if one is a boy born on a Tuesday. After a long search I finally find someone who answers yes. What is the probability that this person has two boys? Assume an equal chance of giving birth to either sex and an equal chance to giving birth on any day._

He scribbled a chart on the back of an invoice, first child and then second child on the axis. So let's assume that everyone has two children, but they could be both girls, both boys, or boy/girl, or girl/boy...

On the stereo, the needle skipped over the last couple of bars of _Downbound Train_ and into the opening lines of _I'm On Fire_. At that moment Jared looked up from his puzzle and saw a figure silhouetted in the doorway. Slowly the figure stepped into the room, resolving itself into a guy. He was wearing military uniform, or at least he had been, the uniform shirt hanging open to reveal a white undershirt and dogtags, which winked and reflected the sunlight as he turned, looking around the shop.

Years later this was how Jared always liked to think of Jensen, the handsome guy in uniform, standing in the doorway with sunshine blazing behind him, limning his hair gold and making his skin gleam. And in the background, setting the scene: Bruce's low voice singing of a bad desire.

"Hey! Anyone here?" the guy called out.

"Yes, um, hello," Jared said, standing up.

"Shit!" the guy exclaimed, spinning to look at him. "Shit, I didn't realize you were here. I thought this place was closed."

"It's only three," said Jared.

The guy shook his head, his lips twitching into an awkward kind of smile. "Dude, no. I mean, I thought you closed years back. I was surprised to see the door open. Sorry for just…” he gestured awkwardly. “Walking in here and scaring you like that.”

“It’s okay,” said Jared.

“You got anything to drink, man? Fucking piece of shit truck broke down three miles back, and I've been walking all this way. Phone's busted too. Just my luck, right?"

“Sure,” said Jared. He bent to retrieve one of the bottles of water from the cooler under his desk, and held it out to the guy. "It's just tap water, but it's cold."

"Like I'm gonna complain about that. Thanks," the guy said, taking the bottle from him with a snap of a grin. He tilted his head back to chug the water, and Jared stared at the line of his throat and the sheen of sweat on the tendons of his neck. He felt a blossom of heat pump through his body, making gooseflesh rise. On the record player, Bruce's voice and the song faded away, and the needle bumped against the middle of the record, hissing and skipping.

The guy paused and lowered the bottle. He licked his lips, and Jared felt his pulse skip. Jared thought for one wild second that maybe this was a dream or a hallucination – an attractive stranger dressed in uniform just randomly walking into the shop one afternoon. It did seem like the opening to a porn movie.

"Hey, you okay?" the guy said. He was looking at Jared like he could tell exactly what Jared was thinking.

"Um, yeah, yeah," Jared said.

"Hadn't you better..." the guy jerked his head toward the turntable and raised his eyebrows.

Jared started. "Oh, yeah. Course. Yeah." He went quickly to the record player and raised the lid. His hand was shaking, and he fumbled with the record as he took it off the turntable, cursing himself for not turning the damn thing off before he removed the record. It was so much easier to remove the vinyl when the turntable wasn't still spinning around at 33 rpm.

"Hey..." Jared jumped when he felt the guy behind him, reaching around him to take the record from his hands. He held it expertly by the edges, no fingerprints on the vinyl as he spun it around. Jared stared at his profile; he had freckles on his nose and cheeks and his eyelashes were very long for a guy, casting shadows over the hollow of his cheek. There was a tan line on the back of his neck, exposed as he bowed his head to examine the record, and Jared thought that he probably spent a lot of time outside, doing whatever it was that guys in the military did outside, drills and marching and shooting targets and doing assault courses and digging ditches. The sleeves of his uniform shirt were rolled up, and Jared could make out the tattoo on his bicep, the globe and eagle that made up the emblem of the US Marines. So, this guy was either a Marine or a really big fan of the Marines. Going by the way he was dressed and the fact the dogtags around his neck looked real, he was probably the real deal. So, this really was like the opening to Jared’s favorite porn movie.

The guy cut him a look. "This is in good condition. It's original, right? 1984?"

"I think so," Jared said.

The guy pursed his lips, and Jared stared at the perfect bow of his mouth. He was standing so close, way closer than any guy would normally stand. Close enough for Jared to feel the heat coming off him, to smell his sweat and stare at the line of dust and dirt on his arms and the back of his neck from his long walk through the blazing sun. Jared's stomach flipped over, nerves and heat and the urge to touch. The guy was so close; he could probably brush their arms together if he wanted. It had to mean something that he was standing this close. This was how guys stood next to each other in _Favors_ , the bar Jared sometimes frequented in the city when he was feeling brave enough and horny enough to do something other than jack off to his favorite porn sites. When a guy stood this close to you in _Favors_ it meant he wanted to fuck you.

Unless… maybe this was a Marine thing? This guy was used to living back to back with other guys, bunking down in the same room as other guys, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip... and okay, maybe that was just Jared's overactive imagination, but Jared had seen a lot of Marine-themed porn movies and his brain was already casting this guy as the main feature.

"You got the sleeve?" he asked.

Jared handed it over and watched the guy sleeve the record and slide it back into the cover. He hunkered down, casting an eye over the stacked vinyl by the record player. He tipped his head back to look at Jared, and Jared noticed that this eyes weren't dark like he'd thought, but green like Heineken bottles.

"You have quite a collection here," he said.

"I guess," Jared agreed.

“Cool,” the guy said, replacing _Born in the USA_ carefully next to _Rumours_. He got back to his feet and looked Jared over, raising his eyebrows. "So, you got time to fix my truck?"

 

 

 

Jared drove him to the place where he'd abandoned his truck. He had a Ford F-150, 86 or 87. It was dark blue and had a couple of patches of rust on the rear and by the driver's side door. The front tires looked new and it had recently been washed. It looked pretty well taken-care of.

On the way there, the guy told Jared his name was Jensen Ackles and he was a Staff Sergeant in the 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines. He leaned forward and pulled aside his undershirt to expose his left shoulder blade and a tattoo which looked like some sort of insignia, a blue diamond with a number one in the middle, crossed rifles and the words “The Professionals” emblazoned over it. He tapped his shoulder with two fingers. “That’s us.”

“The professionals,” Jared read.

Jensen grinned, teeth flashing in his tanned face, and his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ooh-rah!”

He explained that he had a week’s leave, visiting the folks in Five Acres. It was the next biggest town in the county after Riverview, and it was Riverview's bitter high school rival. Twice a year the football teams played and both towns closed down for the day. It had been that way for as long as Jared could remember. Jensen said that his CO had called a couple of days earlier to request a favor. Someone had gotten sick so they needed a last minute replacement for some big careers event in the city, talking to high-school kids who were thinking of joining the Corps.

“Normally, I’d be in civvies. This…” he picked up the uniform jacket lying in his lap… “it’s just for special occasions. But you gotta look the part, be the part, right?"

"I guess," said Jared. "So did you get lots of people to sign up?"

Jensen shrugged. "Apparently. But, man, some of those high school girls..." he shook his head, blowing out a breath. “I don't remember them being like that when I was in high school, and I’m sure I’d remember. One of them asked me if I wanted to go round the back with her, she told me she could suck cock like a pro. For fucking real, those were her exact words!” He glanced at Jared, lips curled in amusement.

Jared was not surprised. Jensen was probably the most attractive guy Jared had ever seen in real life. If he’d given a talk at Jared’s high school, Jared might have considered joining the Marines himself.

Jensen told him that he’d been trying to get back to Five Acres when his truck had given up, smoke coming from the engine and a smell like “burning napalm in the morning”.

“I figure it’s the fan, or something like that,” Jensen added as they drew up to the truck. Jensen jumped down and wandered over to it, swiping a loving hand over the hood and looking at Jared from over his shoulder. “She’s old, you know. Used to belong to my oldest brother, and then my next brother had her. My third brother didn’t want her. He bought some fancy piece of shit 'cause he had a job at that Ford dealership out by Round Rock. You know it? Yeah, that place. It worked out okay for me though, 'cause I got you, didn’t I, baby?” He tapped his knuckles on the side of the truck, making the metal ring.

Jared hooked the Ford up to his tow-truck, and Jensen got back into the cab with him. He kept talking on their way back to Loampit Vale, telling Jared about how he’d joined up.

“Only thing I was good for in school was football and track. I knew I wasn't good enough for a football scholarship and I couldn't deal with college, so yeah, it had to be the military. Besides, I wanted to get away from here. From home and everybody who'd always known me. You know what that's like?"

He looked at Jared, and Jared could feel his gaze like a touch, roaming down his face and neck and shoulders, to his bare arms, and making the hairs on his nape prick. His stomach churned and he swallowed, feeling Jensen's gaze on the bob of his adam's apple.

Jared nodded and wet his lips. "Yeah, I know."

It turned out that it was the fan switch that was busted, which was better and cheaper than it being the fan itself.

"It ain't expensive, and won't take me long to fix. I can do it right now, if you want?”

“Well, I'm going nowhere till it’s fixed,” Jensen said, “so yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

He’d discarded his shirt completely, and Jared could see the tattoos on shoulders and across his back, peaking out from under his white undershirt. He was smoking in the doorway, hip cocked against the doorframe, looking over his shoulder at Jared and looking like every bad boy fantasy Jared had ever had.

Jared stared at him, and then nodded. "It’s okay with me.”

Jensen grinned, a snap of white teeth and an exhale of smoke into the sky. "Okay then."

Jared made him coffee, hunting down the only other mug the garage possessed. He had to rinse out the dust before he made the coffee.

"Bears, huh?" said Jensen, raising his eyebrows and the mug to show off the chipped and faded Bears logo.

"Not mine. It was here before me," said Jared.

"You like the Cowboys?"

Jared shrugged. "I guess. That's what everyone likes, right?”

"I guess it is."

"I'm not much of a football fan," Jared added, worried that Jensen would start the inevitable conversation, and he wouldn't be able to keep up.

"Is that so," said Jensen, and he smiled one of those smiles again.

Jared felt his stomach flip over yet again, and he buried his flushed face in the Ford's engine.

It didn't take long. The F-150 was a popular model, and the fan switch was a common problem, he already had a replacement in stores. He lowered the hood when he was done and glanced across the room. Jensen was sitting by the record player, not going through the albums anymore, but watching him with a thoughtful look on his face. Jared looked back, not taking his eyes off Jensen as he slowly got to his feet and approached.

"You know," said Jensen. He was standing directly in front of Jared now, and Jared noticed that he was the taller. It had kind of registered before, but right now, with Jensen in front of him like this the height difference was more obvious. "I've been watching you and I've come to the conclusion that you are really fuckin' cute." He put his hand on Jared's chest, fingers spreading over the thin cotton t-shirt.

Jared's skin burned under Jensen's hand, the fire spreading through his veins, flickering into every pore, and lighting him up. Slowly, he sucked in a breath and blinked at Jensen. "Uh, thanks."

The corner of Jensen's mouth flickered in amusement, and his fingers scuffed in Jared's shirt, bunching and pulling the fabric. "I'm gonna go down on you. And I hope you're not going to protest 'cause I really, _really_ want your dick in my mouth." That said, he smirked and dropped to his knees.

" _Holy shit_ ," Jared whispered under his breath, and he gaped down at Jensen as he made quick work of his fly and took out his cock like he was unwrapping a present.

Jensen tilted his head back to look up at him, and Jared was overwhelmed once against by just how attractive this guy really was. "See, I knew your dick would be spec-tac-u-lar," Jensen said, working his mouth around the vowels like he was savoring them. "Mmm, can't fucking wait to get this in my mouth."

He didn't say anything else, and just fastened his mouth over the head of Jared's dick. Jared nearly lost it right then, feeling his knees buckle and his thighs shake as he clutched the hood of the truck behind him. Jensen sucked him down messily and sloppily, saliva dripping over his lips and chin, his cheeks pink and eyes watering as he glided his mouth up and down Jared's shaft. He paused, humming something, and Jared felt the vibration of it reverberate through every pore in his body. He scuffed his fingers against the metal behind him, sprawling backward until he was practically draped over the hood.

Jensen paused and glanced up at him, eyes wide and hazy, lashes dark and wet, his mouth stretched obscenely around Jared's cock. Jared stared at him, still not really believing what he was seeing. Jensen smiled at him, or as much as he could with his mouth stuffed with cock. He fingers spread on Jared's thighs, punching into the muscle, and he lowered his head once more. Jared exhaled and fell back, letting the Ford take his weight, and not caring about anything except giving into the amazing pleasure.

When Jared started to come, he put his hand to Jensen's face in warning, but Jensen made a muffled sound and stayed where he was, letting Jared spurt into his mouth. When Jared was done, Jensen shuffled back still on his knees, cheeks bulging with Jared's come. He picked the Bears mug off the ground and spat the mouthful of saliva and spunk into the dregs of his coffee. He licked his bruised, reddened lips and smirked, looking pleased with himself.

"That. Was amazing," he said. "You have a fucking beautiful cock."

Jared looked down at the place where his cock was still hanging out of his pants, sticky, half-limp and not exactly what he would call beautiful. He blushed and fumbled it quickly away. "Uh, thanks. And thanks for---that. It was good."

"Good?" Jensen raised an eyebrow.

"Amazing. It was amazing. You're amazing."

Jensen grinned, and got to his feet. He stepped into the V of Jared's legs where Jared was still sprawled over the hood of his truck. He cupped Jared's face in his hands and leaned in to kiss him.

That was the moment when Jared fell in love with Jensen Ackles.

 

**

_Now_

Jared made an appointment at _Angie's Hair and Beauty_ the next day. He'd been going there ever since he learned that the place was owned and run by Jensen's mom. He'd never told Mrs. Ackles (the Angie in question) that he knew her son, and he'd definitely never even insinuated _how_ he knew her son. He'd also never told Jensen that he was a regular customer at his mom's hairdressing salon.

 _Angie’s_ was on the Westside of Five Acres, on a strip that included a pharmacy, a pet store, a coin laundry, a small market and a sandwich deli. It was six blocks from the house where Jensen grew up. Jared drove down Jensen's street on his way to _Angie's_ , slowing down as he drove past Jensen's house. The house was a regular looking two storey, the front yard neat and well-tended, the porch looking like it had been recently painted. Jensen's pick-up truck was in the driveway, the same one he'd repaired all those years ago. Life was still going on here, as if nothing was wrong.

He parked a couple of doors down from the salon and waited with his hands on the wheel, trying to gather his nerves. He caught a glimpse of himself in the driver's mirror and made a face. He needed a haircut, his mom had said that last time he'd seen her. She'd even offered to cut it herself like she used to do when he was a kid. He wasn't going to let that happen, so he had to do this. Of course, he could've gone somewhere else, a barbershop or that budget place in the mall that only charged five dollars. He always felt out of place at _Angie's_ anyway, surrounded by the middle-age ladies in rollers and bacofoil. And this time... well, he'd been putting it off, telling himself that he would wait until he had news from Jensen before he saw his mom again. Dealing with his own worry and fear was enough, having to see it on her face would just make it worse.

Then again, it would also make it real in a way that he was never going to get anywhere else. Sometimes he woke up with a terror that Jensen and their relationship was just a dream, that it was a long elaborately maintained fantasy that he'd kept going for five years because he didn't have anything else. Paranoid and shaking, he would open his laptop and read through all the saved emails from Jensen, clicking through all the photos Jensen had sent or the ones he'd taken of Jensen, just to reassure himself that Jensen was real, and that their relationship was real, and that one day very soon, he would be back.

He pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened the door. He had to see Jensen's mom. He had to know that he wasn't the only one going through this. He had to know that he wasn't the only one who cared about Jensen.

"Jared!" she greeted him as he entered the salon. "How lovely to see you again, honey."

She put her hand on his arm to lead him toward her station at the back of the salon. She was tall for a woman, about five-eight in the leopard print flats she always wore. She had a good figure for a woman that had just turned sixty, and she talked a lot about gym classes and yoga and nutrition, and she always quizzed Jared on what he was eating, and then tutted when he answered. Jared's own mom had little time for things like make-up and clothes and visits to the gym. She thought that women who had their nails done every week were the sort of women who wouldn't clean behind the fridge, but Jared disagreed. He loved seeing what color Angie's nails would be every time he visited. It reminded him of Jensen's stories about helping his mom paint her toenails as they watched TV together, about her painting his toenails when he asked for it, a different color for each toe. _My dad hated it, he'd go on about how she would end up turning me into a fairy, doing girly shit like that. If only he knew, huh?_ And he'd punctuate the story with a wry look of amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he shared a look with Jared. Jared had never seen Jensen's dad in the flesh, only in the photos Jensen kept in his wallet, but he'd seen enough to know that Jensen took after his mom. They had the same color eyes, and when she smiled it was Jensen's smile.

Sometimes he liked to fantasize about the moment when Jensen would finally pluck up the courage to tell his parents, to introduce Jared to them as his boyfriend. In his mind, it was always a warm summer's day and Jensen's family would be cooking barbecue in their back yard. Jensen would tug him through the house and out onto the back porch. All of Jensen's brothers and his sister and all their partners and kids would be there, Jensen's dad manning the grill, and Angie buttering rolls at the picnic table. Something low and soft playing on the radio, something by Bruce Springsteen maybe, just like the first time he ever saw Jensen. Jensen would be dressed in uniform, handsome and gorgeous, and he'd turn to Jared to grin at him, before he'd call out to get everyone's attention. All the chatter and laughter and even Bruce's voice would die away, and they'd all look up to stare at them. Jensen would take Jared's hand and pull him closer. "This is Jared," he would say, "my boyfriend." They'd be quiet at first, stunned probably, because none of them knew Jensen's secret, none of them knew that their hero Marine son was gay. Angie would be the one to break the silence, she'd be the one to step onto the porch and pull Jared into a welcoming hug. "I always knew there was something about you," she would say, or something like that, and Jensen would look confused and say, "Wait, you two know each other?" and they would all share a laugh. He hadn't decided yet what would happen after that, but it always ended with Jensen's dad setting up his camera to take a picture, balancing it on the porch fence and putting on the timer so he could run into the frame. All the Ackles family together, including Jared, Jensen's arm around him.

Jared took a seat in front of the mirror and she stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders as she met his gaze in the mirror. "So, sweetie, just a trim today?" She pushed her hands into his hair, working her fingers through the strands.

"Maybe a little more off?" he said, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder.

She nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. If you're sure?"

"Yeah, I mean, I know it's been a while," he said, making an apologetic face.

She laughed, and there it was: the Jensen smile. He felt his gut clench and he wanted to hold her hand as she patted his shoulder again. He felt an overwhelming urge to grab her wrist and thank her because his heart was full with Jensen, and even if he never heard from him again, then he still wanted her to know who he was, and he wanted to thank her for being the person who had brought Jensen into the world.

She drew away and turned to pick up a towel. "Come on, let's get you shampooed," she said.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and got to his feet to follow her to the basins.

 

**

_Three years ago…_

"Something like this," Jared said. He flashed the drawing in front of Jensen's face.

Jensen looked up from where his head was pillowed on Jared's thigh and squinted at the pencil design. "What is it?"

"It's a shield."

Jensen tipped his head back to meet his gaze. "Looks like a cloud."

Jared hit him in the arm with the notebook. "Shut up."

Jensen snickered, and Jared tossed the drawing aside. "You should just say if you think it's a stupid idea.”

"No, no, Jare, come on," Jensen said. He rolled over and sat up.

Jared watched him, taking in the way his soft grey t-shirt clung to the muscles in his chest and biceps, the silver glint of the dog-tags around his neck tucked into the shirt, the black ink of his tattoos spilling out from under the short sleeves. He looked over his shoulder at Jared, and Jared stared at his profile. He was so desirable, he could have anyone. Jared still never really understood what he was doing with him.

"You know I like the idea," he said. He put his hand on Jared's arm.

"Do you?" He hated the uncertain tone to his voice.

Jensen nodded. "Yeah, a whole lot." He slid his hand up Jared's arm, and cupped the side of his neck. "I kinda like the idea of messing you up. You're so fucking perfect right now, but putting some ink on you..." Jensen trailed off and the corner of his mouth twitched. "I like that a whole fucking lot."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah."

Jared flushed, feeling his cock fatten in his shorts. He squirmed, watching Jensen's gaze travel down his body to rest on his crotch, then slowly rise again until their eyes locked. He pulled his hand away from Jared, and bunched his fingers in the hem of his own shirt. He tugged it up and over his head, mussing his hair. He tossed it to the floor and turned back to Jared. Jared stared his fill, gaze roaming greedily over the hard cut of Jensen’s torso, the perfect musculature of his abs and chest.

“You like what you see, you should take a picture,” Jensen said.

Jared swallowed, and kept looking, the desire swooping through his blood making him feel bold. “Yeah, I like what I see. C’mere.” He jerked his head at Jensen, beckoning him with both hands.

Jensen grinned, and crawled up Jared’s body. He straddled him, dog tags swinging, brushing Jared’s chest. Jared grabbed them in one fist and tugged, bringing Jensen's head down until their lips met. They kissed, hot and messy, and Jensen pulled away, sighing, “You. Are so fucking hot. You got no idea.”

Jared shivered, and pushed his hand into Jensen's hair. Jensen ducked away from him and leaned down to kiss Jared’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a soft, slurpy pop. He kissed Jared’s chin, nosing under his jaw to kiss his throat and lathe his tongue over his adam’s apple. Slowly, he kissed a trail down Jared’s chest.

Jensen looked up, and his eyes looked very big and very green from that angle. He put his hand over Jared's heart, his palm hot against Jared's skin.

"Here," he said.

"Yeah," Jared said. He put his hand on Jensen's chest, on the exact same spot. "And here."

"Matching tattoos. God help me if the guys ever found out..."

"They won't," Jared reassured him, though it caught in his throat, the idea that Jensen would be ashamed if anybody found out. Then again, it wasn't like Jared was telling anyone else. But perhaps one day he might. Tattoos lasted forever after all.

 

 

 

They drove to the city to get it done. It was a sixty mile trip and Jensen insisted on taking his truck. He’d been to the tattoo place before, he knew the owner, and from what Jared could figure out from Jensen’s cryptic comments, he knew him pretty damn well – as in they’d been lovers at some point. Or maybe not lovers, seeing as Jensen hated that word, maybe fuck-buddies or casual sexual acquaintances. Whatever, the fact was that a guy who used to have regular sex with Jensen was going to give Jared his first tattoo.

“He didn’t do every one,” Jensen told him as he drove, the hand holding his smoking cigarette resting on the edge of the open window. “This one,” he reached across his body to tap the state flag high up on his right shoulder, “I got in Okinawa.

“Okinawa,” Jared repeated. “That’s in Japan, right?”

Jensen shot him a look, the sun catching the edge of his aviators. “Yeah. That’s right. Been there twice.”

“Did you like it?”

Jensen shrugged. “Yeah, guess so. Better than some places I’ve been. Best part was the trip out to Iwo Jima. We had a special map so we could trace exactly where the battle had gone, like, Red Beach 1 to start, and then on to Mount Suribachi, and the spot where they raised the flag. This guy who was a vet back then was with us, he wasn’t at Suribachi, but he’d been there, on the island. He’d seen some fucking scary things, and he was hardcore, Jare. He was about eighty years old, but he was one tough sonofabitch. I mean, we like to think we’re tough, you know, and fuck yeah, we are, but those guys, back then…” he broke off, pulling on his cigarette and exhaling. “They were something else. It really makes you think, you know, about the places we’ve been before. It’s, like, you can go to so many places in the world and know that the Corps was there before you. I like that.”

“Like what other places?” Jared said, rolling his head to look at Jensen’s profile. Jensen didn’t talk about what he did that often. They had such little time together, and what time they did have was so intense, so snatched, so focused on learning each other’s bodies again, on the feel and taste and smell of each other, that they never had time just to hang out and talk.

Jensen paused, dragged on his cigarette and draped his hand outside the window, tapping his ring against the metal. “Uh, Germany, England, Hawaii, Sicily, Iraq of course. Uh… Spain, Egypt, Japan, Afghanistan."

“Oh. So you really do get to see the world then? It is like in the ads.”

“Yeah, man. Join the Navy, see the world. Join the Marines, clean it up.” He shot Jared a look, tongue pushed into the side of his mouth, looking pleased with himself.

“Ooh-rah,” said Jared.

Jensen threw back his head, booming it out. “Oooooh-rahhh!”

Jared laughed and leaned over to squeeze his thigh. Jensen tossed his finished cigarette out of the window and dropped his hand to cover Jared’s, sliding his fingers into the grooves of Jared’s knuckles.

Jared looked down at their entwined fingers and thought of all the places Jensen had reeled off. It probably wasn’t all of them either, not if you counted layovers or stopovers or a couple of days here and there waiting for transport. Jensen had been all over the world and he hadn’t left Texas.

“You sure about this?” Jensen said when he pulled up in the tattoo parlor parking lot.

The place didn’t look very reassuring, dumpsters and graffiti and a couple of cars that looked even older than Jensen’s Ford. Jared looked down at his hands, his palms felt clammy, and he could feel the sweat prickling at the small of his back. His spread his palms over his knees and took a deep breath. “Does it really hurt? Like, as much as people say it does?” he asked.

“Yeah, it hurts,” said Jensen. He kept watching Jared, assessing and expectant, like he was half-expecting Jared to say he didn't want to go through with it after all.

"Okay," said Jared, meeting his eye. "Well, let's get it over and done with."

Jensen's mouth quirked, and he opened the driver's side door. "Okay then."

Any other second thoughts completely vanished when Jensen introduced Jared to Ritchie – his ex whatever – as “Jared, my boyfriend.”

“Oh, so this is the infamous Jared,” said Ritchie, holding out his hand and grinning with a mouthful of very white teeth. “It’s nice to meet you at long last.” He was skinny with unnaturally black hair, an eyebrow piercing, and of course a hell of a lot of tattoos.

“Nice to meet you,” said Jared, blushing as he took Jamie’s hand.

Ritchie exchanged a look with Jensen. “Fuck, you are one lucky bastard. He is fucking adorable. Did you see the size of these hands.” He raised Jared’s hand in his own and whistled.

“Uh, thanks?" Jared said, "I'm right here you know." He pulled his hand out of Ritchie's grasp.

Ritchie chuckled and winked at Jared. "So you are. And look at him..." he nodded at Jensen... "All ready to take me out for touching you. So fucking cute."

Jensen rolled his eyes, and drew the piece of paper where Jared had sketched the tattoo design out of the back pocket of his jeans. After a lot of debate, they’d gone for a shield design with intersecting lines that really didn’t mean anything, but that they both thought looked cool and met Jensen’s criteria of no butterflies, no Chinese symbols, no dolphins, no hearts and no actual words. (Apparently, the battalion nickname didn’t count). Jared didn’t really care about the design. What was most important for him was that they were actually going through with this, as a couple. For the rest of their lives they’d live with these matching symbols right over their hearts. That had to mean something.

"This is what we want," Jensen said, handing it over to Ritchie.

“Okay, okay, yeah. I can see this,” said Ritchie, glancing from the paper to the two of them. “So, who wants to go first?”

“I will,” said Jared, a lot more decisively than he felt.

“Okay then, this way.”

It hurt. Jensen hadn’t been wrong about that. It really fucking hurt. Jared lay back in the chair and squeezed Jensen’s hand hard enough to feel the bones move. “I can’t believe you’ve done this so many times,” he said.

Jensen pushed Jared’s sweaty hair off his forehead. “Yeah, well, I am a badass. You should remember that."

Jared snorted, and Ritchie raised his head, shooting him a warning look. “Keep still.”

“Sorry,” Jared said.

Ritchie looked over his shoulder at Jensen. “And you, stop distracting him.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move away. He pulled up a stool and plumped down next to Jared. “Okay, but I'm staying here."

 

 

Jared unbuttoned his shirt in the car on the way back to peek at the new tattoo. It was covered in white gauze, the skin around it red and sore. It no longer felt like his skin was on fire, the salve Ritchie had applied had helped with that, but it still tingled uncomfortably.

"Don't touch it," Jensen said. He was chewing gum, aviators back on, fiddling with the radio as he drove.

"Okay, mom," Jared said, buttoning his shirt and making a face at Jensen.

Jensen shot him a look. “You’ll thank me later,” he said, hand pausing on the radio dial.

“Hey, stop, stop there,” Jared said, recognizing the song.

"Really? _This_?" Jensen’s expression was dubious, and Jared knew that if he could see under the shades then both eyebrows would be raised.

"Yeah, c’mon. Karen Carpenter, man. It’s awesome.”

Jensen huffed a breath, but he moved his hand back to the steering wheel. Jared grinned, pleased, and started to sing along as loudly and obnoxiously as he could.

“I think I’ve just fallen out of love with you,” Jensen said during the instrumental, his voice as dry as dust.

“Oh, c’mon, man. You know it. Don’t make out like you don’t.”

“Jared, I am not singing along to the Carpenters. Anyway, the Sonic Youth version is better.”

"You are so very, very wrong.” He reached to turn up the volume for the chorus, _“Don’t you remember you told me you loved me, baby; Said you’d be coming back this way again, oh baby…”_

The song died away and Jared sighed, turning down the volume as an ad came on. "We used to sing that in school,” he said. “I remember I had this teacher, Mrs. Ferris who was kinda a hippy – or at least by Loampit standards, ‘cause you know, I don’t think real hippies are Carpenters fans. Every Friday afternoon, she’d bring in her guitar and we’d sit around the floor, like, cross-legged, and sing this song, and _Close to You_ , and _We’ve Only Just Begun_ , and all those songs. Sometimes other stuff, like John Denver or Neil Diamond. It was great, my favorite part of the week.”

“We never used to do anything like that,” Jensen said. “Friday afternoon was always sports at my school.”

Jared wrinkled his nose. “Sports. I hated sports.”

“I _loved_ sports,” said Jensen.

Jared sighed and patted Jensen’s thigh, leaving his hand in place. “Of course you did. You were such a jock. We would’ve hated each other at school.”

Jensen turned his head to look at him. “Lucky we didn’t meet back then, huh?”

“Yeah, lucky,” Jared said, holding Jensen’s gaze and smiling softly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Now_

He saw his mom every Sunday, after church. He didn't attend church anymore, he hadn't done for a while, but his mom still went, regular as clockwork. That morning he woke and stared at the ceiling, trying to think of a reason to not go see his mom. Jensen hadn't been in touch for nearly six weeks, and Jared didn't feel like doing anything. Except, his mom didn't know about that, she knew nothing of Jensen and their relationship, and Jared not turning up at his usual time would just make her worry. She might even come by to see him, and Jared definitely didn't want that. His apartment was his space and he hated anyone else (except for Jensen) seeing it. 

Jared hauled himself out of bed, and went to start the coffeemaker. 

The vacuum was still going when he knocked and opened the front door to the house where he'd grown up. He toed off his shoes and called out hello. 

He poked his head into the den where his stepfather, Roger, was sitting in a cloud of pipe smoke, squinting at his computer. The room had been his father's bedroom when he was too sick to use the stairs. It was the room he died in, and Jared had never set foot in there since. It was the only room that his mom didn't touch during her weekly cleaning rampage, which suited Roger just fine. 

"Hello," he greeted Roger. 

Roger married his mom a year after his dad died, but he'd been around all of Jared's life. He worked at the plant with his dad, and attended church along with most other people in Loampit. Many of the church people had been scandalized when his mom and Roger announced their plans to be married, saying she should feel ashamed, it was far too soon, Bert barely cold in his grave. Jared could honestly say he didn’t mind. His father would want his mom to be happy and move on with her life, and his mom needed to have someone to look after. Jared was mainly just glad she wasn’t looking to him to fulfill that role. 

Roger looked up briefly and nodded at him, before turning his attention back to his game. Jared moved into the living room where his mom was using one of the many vacuum attachments to clean the couch cushions. She looked up as he came in and switched off the machine. The noise died away, and he saw her flick her gaze to the clock over the TV cabinet. 

"Is it that time already?" she said. 

"It's after two,” he answered. 

"I'll make tea," she said. 

He followed her into the kitchen where the appliances and tiles gleamed from the recently applied polish. He took a seat at the kitchen table and watched her fill the kettle and put it on the burner. 

"You've cut your hair," she said. 

He scrubbed his hand through his hair, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I did." 

"Looks better. So, how are you?" she asked. 

_Awful_ , he thought, _I feel like I'm barely holding on._

"Okay, you know," he said. "How about you? How's work?" 

She shrugged. "Fine, nothing new there." 

She still worked at the hospice with the old people. When Jared was a teenager, before he got the job with Bill at the garage, he worked in the laundry room for cash because his parents never had enough to spare for a real allowance. In that laundry room, the dryers and washing machines spun every minute of every day, and the atmosphere was laced with the smells of bleach, urine and burning cotton. Every sheet and towel was washed every day, because the old people who made it to the Rose Graham Home were people who we the bed everyday, they were people at the end of their lives and ready for it to be over. His mom had worked there for fifteen years, and one of the reasons Jared had thrown himself so completely into becoming a mechanic was so he didn't end up there too. 

His mom cut a slice of peach pie and squirted some whipped cream on top. He took his time eating, because when he was done, there would be no excuse for them not to talk to each other. 

Sometimes he imagined himself telling her the truth. _I'm gay, I have a boyfriend called Jensen, he's a Marine, and I worry about him all the time because he does crazy shit for a living like go into warzones and lead missions through fields filled with landmines and snipers. He's smart and resourceful and as hot as hell. I love him, Mom, like I've never loved anyone else before._ But he didn't say anything because he was too afraid. He wasn't sure what exactly he was afraid of. His mom was already disappointed and confused by him. She wondered why he didn't have a girlfriend at twenty five, and surely it had to have crossed her mind that it might be because he didn't like girls. But he still couldn't bring himself to so completely disappoint her. 

He stayed until three, and then he left, waving goodbye to Roger through the front window. He got in his truck and drove to the cemetery. 

He took the gas station bouquet from the passenger seat and laid it down on the ground as he knelt in front of the headstone. He removed the wilted flowers from last week, talking the whole while, telling Dad about his visit to Jensen's mom's salon, about the things Angie had said. 

"I've probably told you this before but there's six kids, Jensen's the fourth. Angie was talking about Kevin, the second one, he works at the plant like you did, but he's in the office, doing accounts or something, I don’t know. He's got two kids and one on the way. Angie said that there's talk of layoffs, I've heard it too, it's all everyone's talking about around here. If it happens it would be… God, Dad, can you imagine Loampit without the plant? There’d be nothing here." He finished removing the cellophane, and placed the flowers gently on the ground. He took them one by one, placing each one carefully into the vase, still talking. "Jensen's dad, he's an electrician, and he wanted Jensen to follow him into it, but he never wanted that. He joined up without telling any of them, like it was a big joke. They were all so mad when he finally told them." He shook his head, smiling fondly to himself. "I probably told you that before. You must get bored of always hearing about Jensen, I talk about him so much." He sat back on his haunches when he was done, surveying his handiwork. "Man, I suck at this. Sorry, Dad, but you know that already I guess." 

He put his hand on the edge of the gravestone, smoothing his fingers down to run over the letters. LOVING HUSBAND AND FATHER 

"If he's not okay, Dad, if he's... I'll don't know what I'll do." 

 

**

_Two years ago_

The funeral was supposed to be small, but everyone in Loampit Vale knew Bert Padalecki, and the crowd was five deep around the grave. 

_I am the resurrection and the life_ , said the pastor, and Jared thought how strange it was to hear those words in real life and not just on TV. The pastor's voice was thin and reedy and every so often someone coughed or shuffled like they were in church, drowning out the words. He could feel them all looking at him, and he kept his head bowed the entire time, staring down at his hands and thinking that he should've scrubbed them harder that morning because he could still see the engine grease under his fingernails. 

Jared lagged behind afterward, ignoring the annoyed looks from Marj, his mom's best friend, as he followed them to the car. 

"I just want to stay for a while," he said, and his mom nodded and looked back to Marj. 

"We should go," she said. 

Marj nodded, tight-lipped, and put a hand on his mom's shoulder to help her into the car. 

Jared watched them go with the guilt gnawing at his insides. They'd spent all night preparing, sandwiches and quiches and cold cuts, chips and dips in the refrigerator ready to be poured and stirred. There would be a lot of people rolling up to his parents' house and he should be there to help out, to pour grape juice for those who didn't drink, and wine for those who did, to join in the reminisces about his dad. But the thought made him feel queasy. He'd much rather be here, with his dad, keeping him company for his first night in the ground. 

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket and watched the last of the cars draw away. He tipped his head back and squinted at the blue, blue sky. It was the wrong type of day for a funeral, the sun was shining and the air smelled of cut grass. _May time and life is returning to the world_ , as his dad used to say. He had sayings for every month of the year, but May was his favorite. 

"Jared."

He hadn't known he was coming, but he'd hoped. He sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes closed. He held out his hand, extending his arm as far as he could, reaching out with questing fingers. He only let the breath go when he felt Jensen's hand slide into his, their fingers twining together. 

"You're here," he said. 

"I'm here," Jensen said. He squeezed Jared's hand. "You can open your eyes. I promise I won't disappear." 

He choked a breath, forcing out the word. "Promise?" 

"Yeah, Jay, I promise. Open your eyes." 

He forced his eyes open, and turned his head. Jensen was standing beside him, holding his hand and watching him. 

"I love you," Jared said. "You know that, right? That I love you." 

Jensen's mouth twitched, awkward and uncomfortable with the declaration as always. "Yeah, I know that." 

Jared kept looking at him, noticing for the first time that Jensen was dressed in a suit, a pinstripe in dark colors. He'd never seen Jensen in a suit before, Jensen always wore jeans and t-shirts and flannel shirts when they were together. He’d only seen him in uniform twice—once when they met and once for a funeral. Jensen must have worn a suit this time because he wanted to blend in. "Were you here? The whole time?" 

"I was at the back." Jensen looked a little embarrassed. "Jay, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. About..." He made an awkward motion with his hand, indicating the grave in front of him. "I wish I could've been there with you." 

Jared kept looking at him, still not really believing it. "But you're here now. How did you…” 

“I asked,” Jensen said simply. “I told my CO he was an old family friend. They ain’t gonna check that. They gave me 48.” 

“Oh. So you---you were there. You saw it.” 

"I did." 

Jared felt his mouth crumple as the fight left him, everything he'd been holding onto for the past few days. "Jensen." He felt his knees give and the ground was rushing up, but Jensen was there, and his arms were around Jared. Jared held onto him, pushing his face into the unfamiliar scratchy fabric of Jensen's funeral suit.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay, Jared, I'm here," Jensen said, and Jared could feel Jensen's hands on his back and in his hair, holding him as he shook. 

He looked up when he could take a breath again, and Jensen's face was right there. He cupped Jensen's face with his hands, and kissed him. He didn't think about his father's grave behind him, he didn't think about his dad being dead, and never being able to see him again. He didn't think about how he'd never told his father that he wasn't alone like his dad had always thought. He didn't think about the fact that his dad died without knowing that one big truth about his son. He pulled back, rested his forehead against Jensen's, and felt Jensen's hands go up to cradle his neck. 

"C'mon," Jensen said. He guided Jared to a monument, and pulled him down into the v of his legs. Jared leaned back into Jensen's chest. Jensen wrapped his arms around him from behind and rested his chin on Jared's shoulder. He didn't say anything about them going, and Jared was grateful for it. Jared stared down the length of Jensen's legs, framing his own. Jensen's feet ended at Jared's calves. Really, Jared should be the one holding Jensen, he was so much taller, but he didn't want to move, not when Jensen was holding him like this. 

"I couldn't let him be here alone tonight. Not his first night in the ground," he said at last. 

"I know," Jensen said. 

"He's all alone down there. In the ground. I wanted... wanted him to be cremated, but this is our patch and Mom didn't want that. And I guess he didn't want that. I don't know. Maybe I'm being selfish." 

"You’re not selfish, Jared." 

He hitched a breath, stared down at the place where Jensen's hand was slowly rubbing his thigh, not sexual touching for once, but comforting, soothing. 

"Jensen?" 

"Mmm?" 

"You've seen men die, like, in combat?" 

He felt Jensen stiffen, shifting like he was trying to find a comfortable position. "Yeah." 

"Do you ever... does it get better? Do you ever stop thinking about it? I just... I keep seeing it and thinking about it, that moment. When he went. I wish I couldn't see it, but I can't stop thinking about it. He didn't want to be alone, so we took turns, me and Mom, staying with him for a couple of hours. He wasn't even conscious most of the time and he wanted to go. He was ready to go, and Mom was supposed to be there with me, because we knew it was close. But she'd gone to take a shower, and that was when... Shit, Jensen, she was in the fucking bathroom, and I had to knock on the bathroom door and tell her that he'd gone. And I can't stop thinking about it, that moment when I saw him die, when I saw him just turn from this person, into nothing, into just... just a body. And I wish I could stop thinking about him like that. Is it – is that how it is for you?" 

Jensen was quiet for a moment then he said, "No, it's not like that. The guys that I've seen, it's sudden. They don't know that it's happening. And you can't stop to think about it, not in the moment, you're too busy trying to save your own ass and get everyone the hell out. You don't get a chance to think about it." He paused, then added quietly, "That comes later." 

He pushed a hand into Jared's hair, and turned his head so he could press kisses to Jared's cheeks. "I want to tell you that it'll get better but that would be lying. You'll always think about it, Jared, it will always be there. I'm so sorry I can't make it better for you." 

"You are, I mean, just being here, it's making it better." 

He felt Jensen's smile, soft and sad, against the side of his neck, and he slid his fingers into Jensen's where Jensen's hand was lying on his thigh. "When do you have to go?” he said 

“My flight’s tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Oh.” He let out of a breath of relief. “Then you’ll—you’ll stay with me?” 

"Like I want to be anywhere else,” said Jensen, scoffing.

Jared laughed, breathy and soft. “Okay.” 

“Yeah,” Jensen said, and he kissed his neck again. 

 

**

_Now_

Jared was standing in the aisle of Riverview's Wal-Mart, watching a guy with some impressively ripped forearms, a military haircut and tattoos chuck meat into his shopping cart when the Carpenters’ _Superstar_ came over the in-store radio. He froze, listening blankly to Karen Carpenter sing longingly of long ago and so far away, a love lost, and now just a sad guitar on the radio, and you said you’d be coming back this way again, oh baby. He swallowed, wanting to close his eyes and ears to it because all he could think about was the look of strained tolerance and badly hidden amusement on Jensen’s face when Jared sang that song to him on the ride back from the tattoo parlor. 

He put his hand to his chest, spreading his fingers over the place where the tattoo was inked into his skin. It was six weeks to the day that he’d last heard from Jensen. 

“Hey, asshole! You looking at something?” 

Jared blinked; the guy with the military haircut was glaring at him, eyes narrowed in contempt. 

Jared swallowed, about to say something when the guy moved, ramming his cart into Jared’s as he pulled away. Jared started, frozen to the spot as he watched the guy storm off. He could feel his cheeks going red, feel the suspicious stares of the other shoppers on him. He turned around and hid his flushed face in the frozen meat section, hands shaking as he picked something randomly and threw it into his cart. 

He was in line at the checkout when he heard the familiar voice. He spun around, heart pounding as his gaze came to rest on a guy standing a couple of places behind him in line and talking on the phone. He was in profile to Jared, and it wasn't until he pivoted a little on his heels to face Jared that Jared recognized him as Jensen's brother, Dan. He'd seen pictures of him and knew that he was the oldest of the Ackles children and that he taught chemistry at Jared's old high school. 

Jared's stomach plummeted at he stared. Gulping over the lump in his throat, he forced himself to look away. He snatched another glimpse as he moved up in line. Dan was at least ten years older than Jensen, with sandy fair hair that was turning grey. He was heavier too, with a small double chin and soft jowls, his shirt pulled tight around his soft middle. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and a scruffy looking tie, a pen in the pocket of his shirt. He looked like a typical public school teacher. He looked nothing like Jensen, but the voice…Jared squeezed his eyes shut and half-wished, half-dreaded that he’d stop talking. 

Jared fumbled his way through paying for his groceries, going through the motions, so aware of Jensen’s brother only a few feet behind him. He could go up to him, ask him about Jensen, see if they’d heard anything because if anyone knew what had happened to Jensen then it would be his family. The Corps wasn’t going to tell some random guy, but they would tell his family. He thought about Jensen saying that Dan was the one who'd taught him to ride a bike, that when Dan left home to go to college he'd cried for two days, that if he ever did tell any of his family the truth about himself, it would be Dan. 

Jared idled around after he’d paid for his groceries, leafing through the magazines at the newsstand. He watched Dan heft the grocery bags into his arms and carry them out to a dark blue Toyota. He watched him get into the car, and for a brief second, he imagined himself getting into his own car and following Dan home. He pictured himself walking up the front path to Dan’s house, taking a deep breath and knocking on the door. He thought about what he could say to Dan and his wife Karen. _I’m Jared, I’m a friend of Jensen’s_. He thought about the kind of emphasis he could put on the word friend so Dan might get it without Jared having to actually say the words. He thought about hearing Dan’s voice again, and he wanted to be close to someone who sounded so much like Jensen. 

_It's like you're already dead_ , he thought as he watched the Toyota pull out of the parking lot. 

 

**

 _One year earlier..._

Jared had known Jensen for four years when he found out he owned an apartment in San Diego. 

"It's near CampPen," Jensen said with a shrug. "I figured if I was going to buy a place anywhere then it may as well be somewhere around there. And San Diego's a cool city, you know?" 

Jared didn't know; he'd never been to California. He'd never been out of Texas, which Jensen knew of course. Operation Enduring Freedom always seemed to fuck with them every time they planned a vacation so Jared had learned the hard way to not bother booking anything. 

"I rent it out most of the time. Least this way, it covers the mortgage." 

Jared blinked at him. "You have a mortgage?" 

Jensen laughed and tousled his hair. Sometimes Jared forgot that Jensen was four years older than him, and then sometimes, it felt like more than four years, like a lifetime. Jensen was a Gunnery Sergeant now. During active tours, he’d regularly have 150 men under him, hanging onto his every word, men whose lives he was responsible for. People lived or died according to the choices Jensen made. 

Right now though, he was lying in Jared's bed, naked and sticky, wearing three days' stubble and hickeys Jared had sucked into his chest. Right now he was all Jared's. Jared smiled at him, and Jensen grinned back, his eyes crinkling. He rolled onto his side and pushed his face into the back of Jared's neck, nuzzling at a spot on the nape that always made Jared shiver. "You're very sexy like this," he said. 

Jared reached around to squeeze Jensen's ass. "Could say the same about you." 

“Mmm,” Jensen pressed another kiss to Jared’s nape, rolling his hips, his cock sliding against the small of Jared’s back. 

“You hard again?” Jared said, lifting his head and exhaling a breath. 

“Again and again for you, baby,” said Jensen. 

Jared laughed, feeling his ribcage contract, his chest rising and falling, and Jensen with it, his warm weight plastered to Jared’s back. 

Jensen stretched out an arm, and Jared heard the pop of the cap on the lube, and then Jensen was leaning back and his fingers inching between Jared’s thighs. He was still sore from the last time, and he hissed as Jensen’s fingers breached him. He felt loose and slick and sloppy already, but Jensen’s fingers were working their magic and his own cock was fattening underneath him, caught between his body and the mattress. 

Jensen pulled his fingers out and Jared watched him wipe them on the sheets. He squeezed Jared’s hip. “Hey, man, on your knees.” 

Jared generally preferred sex face to face, he loved to watch Jensen when he came, loved to see the expression of utter concentration and pleasure. But he wasn’t exactly averse to doing it this way around, sex was sex after all, and sex with Jensen was always good. He got to his hands and knees, lifting his head to watch Jensen tear open the condom packet and slide the rubber onto his cock. Jared shuffled back until his ass bumped against Jensen’s stomach, and then Jensen’s hands were on his hips and he was guiding himself inside. Jared bit off a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for his body to adjust to the intrusion. 

“Hey, you okay?” Jensen asked. “Still sore?” 

“No, s’good,” Jared murmured. He clenched the muscles of his ass and felt Jensen shudder. He grinned smugly to himself. “C’mon then.” 

Jensen chuckled, but he pushed all the way in, bottoming out until his balls slapped up against Jared’s ass. 

He fucked Jared slowly at first, one hand on his hip and the other carding gently through his hair. Jared closed his eyes and gave into the sensation, being filled by Jensen, Jensen touching that secret part of him, Jensen’s hand in his hair, caressing his neck, running down the length of his spine to squeeze his hip. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” Jensen breathed, and Jared felt his body flush, his cock bobbing against his stomach and both hands curled into the sheets. 

Jensen’s hand reached around him to grab his dick, stroking him in awkward, off-key jerks of his wrist. His hips stuttered and Jared knew he would be making that face, the one Jared loved so much, the blissed-out look of pleasure that Jared couldn’t get enough of. He felt it when Jensen came, his cock twitching inside him. Then Jensen was pulling out, putting his hand on Jared’s shoulder to roll him onto his back. He leaned down and sucked Jared’s cock into his mouth, and already it was too much, his ass sticky and sore and throbbing with that good hurt, his muscles shaking and his blood thumping so hard he couldn’t hear his thoughts. 

Jared came into Jensen’s mouth, and Jensen swallowed, gulping and licking his lips, beads of sweat at his hairline and his face flushed pink. He was the most desirable thing Jared had ever seen. 

“Shit,” Jensen exhaled, sitting back on his haunches, and laughing shakily. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and caught Jared’s eye. “You are the hottest fucking thing… Shit.” He grabbed Jared’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, before he slid off the bed. He made for the dresser and his pack of cigarettes. 

Jared watched him shake one out and light up, watched him lean back against the dresser, his chest flushed, making the tattoo they shared stand out even more in its inky deep black. He watched Jensen smoke, a smirk at the edge of his mouth as he tilted his head back to exhale. The condom was still hanging off his dick when Jensen rested his smoking butt in the ashtray and moved to the record player. 

Jensen padded out of the room as the music started, the opening bars of Marvin Gaye's _Let's Get It On_. Jared laughed, and dropped back into the sheets, the mattress bouncing under him as he called out, "You don't need to seduce me! We’ve done that part!” 

Jensen stuck his head around the doorway, eyebrows raised and hands full of wine and two glasses. "What?" 

"Nothing." Jared said. 

Jensen stepped inside, the condom now discarded, thank God. He paused by the dresser to pick up his cigarette, resting it in the corner of his mouth as he uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. He carried the glass over to Jared's side of the bed, singing and swaying his hips. _"C'mon, c'mon... ooh, let's get it on..."_ I just want you, he thought, _like this, all the time_. But he couldn’t say that because it would never happen. Jensen was career. He wouldn’t leave the Corps until he was forced to, and Jared didn’t want to think about the sort of thing that would force him out. 

"Jared," said Jensen, and Jared looked up at him again, meeting his eyes. 

"You're going to Afghanistan again," he said at last. 

He could deal with Jensen being away in a dangerous warzone when he was here, in his hometown, surrounded by people he'd known all his life, doing a job that was easy and uncomplicated, seeing his mom every week and keeping his dad's grave nice. San Diego was a big city; he didn't know how to be in a big city. 

"But I'll come back," Jensen said. 

 

**

_Now_

On Thursday, Mr. Peterson came by the garage. Jared knew something was wrong because he asked Jared to stop working on Marj Braithwaite’s station wagon and invited him to take a seat at the desk. The picture of Jensen and him taped to the side of his computer was in his eyeline, and he tilted the screen when Mr Peterson wasn't looking, making sure his boss couldn't see it. It was one of his favorite pictures of Jensen. They were lying in bed, sharing a pillow and Jared had held the camera at arm’s length to take the picture, the two of them squashed together with Jared's hair in his eyes and Jensen's face turned to press a kiss to Jared's jaw. 

"I'm sorry, Jared, you've done a great job here these past few years," said Mr. Peterson. 

Jared's heart sank. He'd been expecting it for years, ever since they'd opened that big chain place out on the highway, but despite all that, hearing Mr. Peterson actually say the words was still a shock. 

"I'm selling the land to a developer," said Mr. Peterson, and Jared wondered who exactly would bother to develop anything in Loampit Vale. The threats to close the aerosol plant were getting louder and harder to ignore. It would happen eventually, and then there really would be nothing here. 

Mr. Peterson wasn't closing straight away, Jared would have a couple of months to close things down, to sell the stock they had, finish any jobs that were booked in, and get the news out there. He'd be paid for three months and then that was it; he would have to find a new job. 

After Mr. Peterson left, Jared went back to working on Marj's station-wagon. 

He went to the diner for his lunch, and thought about telling Greta the news. If he told people then it would become real and then maybe he would actually have to do something. He thought about Jensen's mysterious apartment in San Diego and Jensen's invitation a year ago for him to live there. He thought about what might happen to Jensen's apartment now, with him being gone, but that train of thought only led to places he really wasn't prepared to go, so he stopped thinking. 

He ordered a slice of blueberry pie, but he couldn't finish it. He thanked Greta, tipped her generously, and walked back to the garage. There was an unfamiliar car sitting outside the garage when he got back, and as he approached a guy climbed out of the driver's side. 

Jared stopped, his heart quickening as he recognized the guy. It was Dan, Jensen's brother. 

He made it as far as the door, telling himself that Jensen's brother being here at Peterson's Auto Repairs was nothing to worry about. Hell, he hadn’t been sleeping, he was probably hallucinating. It didn’t mean anything. 

"Jared? Jared Padalecki?" 

Dan’s voice dispelled that illusion, and Jared stopped again, clutching the door with both hands. 

"No," he whispered under his breath, and then again, "no, no, no, no..." 

Dan approached, holding out both hands, placating. "Jared? It is Jared. It's okay, Jared..." 

"No," Jared said, his voice a little stronger. "No, no, don't say anything… Please...” 

He was shaking his head, the tears blurring his vision. He could feel his knees start to give, and then the ground was rearing up and he wasn’t clutching the door anymore, but his palms were scraping gravel instead. He felt warm hands close around his shoulders, someone kneeling beside him, putting their hand on his arm. Dan was saying something, and he sounded so much like Jensen that Jared wanted to scream. 

"C'mon, c'mon," Dan muttered, and he was helping Jared to his feet, guiding him through the door and into the shop, which Jared hadn't locked, because he never locked it. He steered Jared to the same seat he sat in only three hours before when Mr. Peterson fired him. 

Jared watched Dan sit down on the other chair; the one Mr Peterson had used what seemed like lifetime ago. "How did it happen?" he said at last. 

Dan licked his lips and Jared thought of Jensen licking his lips. He thought of Jensen tilting his head in that considering way, cutting a look to Jared that was heavy-lidded and provocative, licking his lips in that way that never failed to send Jared reeling. The memory punched the breath out of him and he gagged, not daring to look up. 

"Jared, he's not dead," said Dan. 

At first, Jared wasn't sure he’d heard right. He snapped his head up so quickly his vision swam. "What?" 

"He's not dead," Dan repeated. "He's busted up pretty bad, but he's not dead. He'll need some rehab and serious R and R, and then he'll be back in the Corps like nothing happened. You know Jensen; a couple of bullets aren't going to stop him." 

"He... he got shot?" 

"A couple of times while they were getting him out of there." 

"Out of where?" 

"The camp. The prison camp where those bastards were keeping him. God, ever since we heard, these past few weeks, knowing he was there, that he might be..." he broke off at the look on Jared's face. "You didn't know." 

Jared shook his head. He could feel the tears again, welling up and spilling over, running down his cheeks unchecked. Jensen had been taken prisoner and he hadn't known. 

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," said Dan. His face creased in sympathy, and he reached across the table, covering Jared's hand with his own. Jared had the brief picture of him comforting high school teenagers; he probably made a good counselor. "I'm so fucking sorry," he said, voice low and deep, and God, he sounded like Jensen, so damn much like him. 

"Shit," Jared said. He tugged his hand away from Dan and wiped it across his face, smearing the tears. Dan got up and looked around him, gaze finally alighting on the box of wet wipes Jared used to clean his hands after working on an engine. He walked over to gather them up and held the packet out to Jared. Jared took one and scrunched it up in his fist. 

"You must've been going crazy," Dan said. 

Jared shrugged. He couldn't speak, his chest felt tight, his throat ached. He wasn't sure he could say anything. He was shaking, hands not functioning properly as he swiped at his face with the wet wipe. 

"If I'd known about you, then believe me, I would've told you straight away," Dan said, and Jared thought that he probably would. Jensen always said that Dan was a good guy. They fell silent, and Jared listened to the familiar sounds of the fan in the corner and the buzzing of the fly zapper. 

Dan exhaled and looked around him again. "I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink. You got anything here, or should we go someplace else?" 

Jared looked at him. The corner of Dan's mouth was twitching, half-embarrassed, half-amused, and for the first time, Jared thought that Dan maybe did look a little like his brother. 

He took Dan back to his place; closing up shop, even though it was only just past two. Marj wasn't coming until tomorrow to pick up her car, and Jared figured that it didn’t matter anyway; it wasn't like Mr. Peterson could fire him now. Dan drove them there. It was only a few blocks, but Jared wasn't sure he was capable of walking all the way. As soon as he let Dan inside, he made straight for the kitchen and the cupboard where he kept the bottle of single malt he'd been saving for Jensen's return. 

Dan followed him into the kitchen, and paused by the refrigerator, looking at the photos Jared had pinned to the front. Jared watched him, thinking that this was the first time anyone except Jensen had set foot in the place since he met Jensen. The photos were of Jensen or the two of them together. The most prominent one, Jared's favorite, was of Jensen sitting up in Jared's bed, naked to the waist and smoking a cigarette, his hair disheveled and a wicked smile on his face as he stared at Jared taking the picture. Jared blushed, and Dan looked at him, and then back at the picture. 

"I can't believe he never told me. He's always been kind of... closed off and secretive. When he enlisted he didn't tell anyone for a couple of weeks. When Mom and Dad found out they went crazy." 

"I know, he told me," Jared said. 

Dan cut him another look. "Right, yeah." He looked down at the bottle in Jared's hand. "That's his favorite." 

"Yeah, I was saving it, but I guess..." he shook his head. "Never mind. Do you want some?" 

Dan sighed, "Most definitely." 

Dan was a talkative drunk, talking mainly about Jensen, so Jared didn't stop him, listening to this new perspective on Jensen, the one he'd only really gotten from snatched mentions by Jensen's mom when she cut his hair. It wasn't long until Dan started talking about what happened. The family had heard four weeks ago about Jensen's team being ambushed, about the group that had taken them, hardcore, nasty sonsofbitches, that hated the US military. They executed half of Jensen's team and didn’t bother asking for ransoms. Jared listened, the horror eating at his insides, making his throat close and his breathing get tight. In a way, he felt grateful for not knowing any of it. The idea of trying to get on with his life, of working and eating and sleeping while Jensen was being held prisoner and tortured - Dan wasn't saying that, but Jared could read between the words he wasn't saying - was a complete anathema to him. 

"His Commanding Officer called us to let us know he'd been rescued. After they got Jensen out, he led them back in to rescue the rest of his guys. He insisted on it, saying he knew the compound better than they did. Jensen helped get them out, but that’s when he was shot. They got him twice, here," he put his hand to his shoulder, then dropped it to his thigh, "and here. He lost a lot of blood before they got him to the evac team." 

"But he's okay," Jared repeated, saying the words like a mantra, his head bowed and his fingers locked around his glass. 

"Yeah he's okay. I’ve seen him, Jared, and he’s okay. He’s in bad shape, but those injuries, the bullet wounds, they’re not the worse. He’d been there for four weeks; he has bruises and burns all over him. He looks like they’d been using him as their fucking punching bag all that time, though he wouldn’t talk about. And still, despite all that, he still went back for the rest of his team. His CO said he was recommending him for it, for some sort of honor, a medal or something. If he hadn't gone back for them then three of them would be dead." 

Jared throat closed, ducking his head and breathing out hard. _Godammnit, Jensen._ He didn't care about the other guys, about the fucking recommendation or medal. Jensen had people who loved him so much, he had people who needed him, and it was selfish, he knew that, but Jared didn't care about anyone else. He didn’t care about the fucking Marine Corps or the fucking mission. Fuck all of them. 

"I'm sorry." He jumped when Dan's hand dropped to his arm again, careful and reassuring. "I know this must be hard to hear all this, to just have me tell it." 

Jared swallowed and forced himself to look up and meet Dan's gaze. Slowly, the implication of what else Dan had said dawned on him. “You said you’ve seen him.” 

“Yeah,” Dan nodded. 

“So he’s here?” He stared at Dan, heart pounding. “Here, in the US?” 

“Yeah, he’s at the military hospital in the city.” 

_Oh God, oh God_ … Jared wanted to bow his head and laugh, filled with such ridiculous relief and anger at Jensen for being so close all this time. 

"I’ve only seen him one time, Jared. He asked to see me on my own especially, just me and him. Soon as I sat down, all he could talk about was you. He was desperate for me to let you know that he was okay. Tell Jared, he said, you have to make sure Jared knows I'm okay. Go and see him and tell him." 

"Oh," Jared said. He turned his head away from what Dan was saying, feeling the tears again, burning behind his eye sockets. 

“I’ve never seen my brother like that about anyone. I always wondered if he might be… Well, you know. He never had serious girlfriends and it wasn’t for lack of interest from girls.” He huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes in a way that reminded Jared of Jensen again. “The girls always loved Jensen. But I always assumed he was too much into the Marine thing to have any kind of relationship, but now I know about you… well it makes so much sense.” He broke off, raising his eyes to meet Jared’s. “You know, it’s not exactly how I’d like this to have gone down, but I’m really pleased to meet you. I know my brother, and I can tell he really cares about you.” 

Jared blinked again, feeling a tear escape and roll down his cheek. He didn’t care. “Can I go see him?” 

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” said Dan. 

 

** 

_Six months later_

Jared finished the Prius just after five pm. He went out to the front to let Carlos know that he was done. Carlos saluted him with his Chargers mug, and Jared waved back at him before he went to get changed. He stripped out of the Henderson’s Autos branded overalls they were forced to wear and grabbed his phone from his locker. There was a new text from Jensen. 

_Back about 6. I'll get food. x._

He changed into his jeans and t-shirt, slid on the leather jacket Jensen had gotten him for his twenty sixth birthday, and walked out to the parking lot. 

He’d been working at Henderson’s for three months now. After he finished with all his responsibilities to Mr. Peterson he packed his truck, gave noticed on his apartment, and drove to San Diego. Jensen was still in rehab at the center, but he’d be joining him as soon as he got out, so Jared spent his first two weeks in San Diego fixing up the apartment and looking for work. The job at Henderson’s was the first one he applied for, and he was hired on the spot. 

Jensen’s mom insisted on driving Jensen to San Diego and the two days she spent at the apartment were some of the most awkward days of Jared’s life so far. Jensen had told her about being gay, and she’d apparently been okay with, what she wasn’t okay with was Jared. It wasn’t just his visits to her hairdressing salon and what she probably saw as his deception there, it was simply that she didn’t think he was good enough. 

“You’re being paranoid,” Jensen said when Jared told him. “She likes you as much as she’d like anyone I was serious about. I’m her favorite, remember? And now that we’re living together it means I’m going to be here all the time and not in Texas. She’s pissed about that.” 

Jensen was probably right, but Jared thought it was more than that. Jared was a mechanic, the son of a factory worker and a care home worker. Both Angie and her husband owned their own businesses. All the Ackles kids, except Jensen and Steve had gone to college, and Steve was the top salesman at the local Ford dealership and Jensen was a decorated NCO with the USMC. 

“She’ll get over it. She’ll have to,” Jensen added with a significant look at Jared, which did make him feel marginally better. Luckily, Jensen though the whole deal with Jared visiting his mom’s salon was hilarious. “I love that you couldn’t get enough of me, that you had to get my mom to cut your hair just to get close to me. It’s so fucking cute.” 

At least Jensen’s mom did know now, even if she wasn’t happy about it. Jared still hadn't plucked up the courage to tell his own mom. He couldn't exactly say why that was, but every time he played the scene in his head, he felt sick to his stomach. Sometimes, he wished that she'd just ask, that she'd just come out and ask about the guy he talked about as his "landlord" or "roommate." He felt like he could do it if she said that.

The rest of Jensen’s family was still in the dark too. “And it’s going to stay that way,” Jensen said during his mom’s visit. “Dad's a homophobe. And Kev, Steve and Jamie are just as bad. There's a reason why I never came out to y'all. Soph would probably be okay with it, but she's got a big mouth, so…” 

"Jensen," his mom admonished, but there was no real recrimination in her tone as she leaned over to pat his arm. 

They drove her to the airport for an awkward goodbye. Jensen exchanged a look with Jared after she’d passed through the gate, blowing out a relieved breath, eyebrows raised. 

“God, I don’t know about you, Jare, but I am so ready to go home.” He reached for Jared’s hand, and kept their fingers entwined as they walked through the departures hall and out to short-term parking. 

It was the first time they’d ever held hands in public, and Jared felt bold and heady and completely and utterly in love. 

He got back to the apartment by 5.30pm, and grabbed a beer from the fridge to settle down in front of the TV while he waited for Jensen. 

"Jared!" 

Jensen's voice stirred Jared from his place on the sofa about forty minutes later. He switched off the sports news bulletin, and got to his feet as Jensen strode into the room, carrying a bag of take-out in one hand. 

"I got Thai," he said, raising the bag. "Can you get the plates?" 

Jared hurried into the kitchen, gathering plates and forks, and another two bottles of beer from the fridge. He took it all through to the living room and dumped the lot on the coffee table, where Jensen was already kneeling and unwrapping the food. 

"How'd it go?" he asked once they'd gotten the food on their plates and started eating. 

Jensen laid his chopsticks down and grinned at Jared. “It's good to be back." 

Jared smiled, ignoring the twinge in his chest. "Good, that's good. I'm pleased for you." 

Jensen swallowed his mouthful of noodles and gave him a look from the corner of his eye. "You know you can't lie for shit." 

"I wasn't lying," he insisted. "I'm happy that you're happy, Jensen, it's just..." he broke off and sighed, dropping his chopsticks into the now unappetizing plate of food. 

"Hey, it's okay," Jensen said. He reached forward to deposit his half-eaten food on the coffee table and got to his knees, shuffling across the carpet toward Jared. "But you knew this about me when you met me. You've always known what I am. I’m never gonna change." 

Jared looked down at him, thinking of the past few months. Jensen had pushed himself so damn hard, putting himself through so much pain and torture in his desire to get back to his old fitness again. He hadn't managed it yet--it would be another few months, probably a couple of years, until Jensen was completely back to the prime fighting shape he'd been in before he was captured. But last week when he texted Jensen to say his CO had passed him fit for duty, Jared's stomach plummeted with worry and disappointment, and he knew that he'd have to hide it from Jensen. 

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry," he said. 

Jensen pursed his lips and nodded. "Okay," he said, but he didn't sound convinced. 

They watched the late game after eating. It was nice, companionable, and Jared found himself relaxing as he sank down into the couch, his gaze drifting more toward Jensen on the other sofa than to the TV. This was worth a lot, being able to hang out with Jensen like this, just being together and normal, like regular couples. 

Jensen lifted his head and turned to peer at Jared. "You know, man, I was speaking to my CO, and he told me that the Spouse's Club at the base has to let in same sex spouses now. Apparently, it's come all the way from the top." 

Jared blinked at him, trying to pick through Jensen's words. "What?" 

"Well I figure that all that bullshit about Don't Ask Don't Tell is gone now. So even the Corps gotta get with the modern times." 

"I'm not your spouse," Jared pointed out. 

Jensen gave an awkward sort of a shrug, that slightly self-deprecating smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Well you could be, if we wanted. It is legal in California now." 

Jared stared at him, watching the flush creep into Jensen's cheeks. "Jensen, are you... is this... are you _proposing_ to me?" 

Jensen rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Would you want me to?" 

Jared burst out laughing, and rolled off the couch. He slid across the floor toward Jensen and put his hands on Jensen's knees, parting his thighs. "You're serious?" 

"If it makes it easier for us to be together. If it gives us the same rights as regular married people, and if the Corps recognize that then... why the fuck not?" 

"But you'd have to tell all the guys...." 

"Most of them know already," Jensen interrupted. 

"Oh." Jared sat back on his heels and stared at Jensen. He still looked a little unsure, taking a swig of his beer and passing the back of his hand over his mouth, eyes hovering somewhere above Jared's shoulder. 

"If you don't want to or if..." 

"Jensen! I do! I mean, yeah, course I fucking do, you idiot," Jared said. He put his hands on Jensen's neck, forcibly turning his head so their gazes met. "Why would you ever think that I wouldn't?" 

Jensen blushed, squirming a little. "I don't know," he said at last. 

Jared exhaled a laugh. He was grinning so hard his face was aching. "Kiss me," he said. "C'mon Gunnery Sergeant Ackles, give me a kiss." 

Jensen rolled his eyes, but he leaned in, dropping a kiss to Jared's cheek. Jared laughed, and pulled Jensen's beer out of his hand. He put it on the coffee table and climbed on top of Jensen, forcing him down in the chair. "You know," he said conversationally, placing a kiss on the edge of Jensen's jaw. "I guess this makes me your military wife." 

"I guess it does," said Jensen. 

 

THE END


End file.
